King of the World
by Qaddafi the Ripper
Summary: In a different world, Alexander marries before leaving Macedonia. His son accompanies him in his journeys. What changes will this cause, and what will stay the same?
1. Prologue: Of Dreams and Inheritance

**King of the World**  
**Author:** Qaddafi the Ripper  
**Fandom:** Alexander the Great (original)  
**Summary:** In a different world, Alexander marries before leaving Macedonia. His son accompanies him in his journeys. What changes will this cause, and what will stay the same?  
**Notes:** A million thanks to my proof readers, coraldawn and moon71.

This story is not fanfiction. It is not based on Mary Renault's Alexander trilogy, and it is not based on Stone's movie, and it is not based on anyone else's work either. This is a work of historical fiction, which fits under the genre of alternate history. The only reason I'm posting here is because my proof readers said I should (and I always obey them), and because I wank for reviews.

Finally, this story is currently rated at K plus, but the rating is likely to go up, since I like blood and guts, sex happens, I really like blood and guts, swearing and inebriation also happen, and I can't write battle scenes without blood and guts.

And you for your time, and enjoy the prologue.

* * *

"_I am, as my father was before me and his father before him, a king. I will take this world he has left me, and make it mine. And there shall be none who can stand in my way, for I am the son of a god. The nations shall tremble before me, and the world shall bow to me. Never to anyone else, only me. For I am my father's only son and heir, and this world belongs to me now. I am the king of the world, and anyone who challenges me, I will destroy."_

**Prologue:** Of Dreams and Inheritance

"Alexander, I would like to suggest a wife for you."

The king of Macedon managed to suppress a sigh. In the past two years or so since he'd become king, and before that too, he'd entertained countless marriage offers. This latest offer had ambushed him in the hallways of the palace while he was overseeing the final preparations to go into Asia. It wasn't the first time he'd been ambushed by an offer, but he was already getting sick of it. He would be glad to go to Asia, if for no longer reason than to escape prospective fathers-in-law. "I appreciate the offer, Myron, but I have no intention of marrying anytime soon," he explained patiently. He had wars to fight with Persia, and he didn't want to sit around in Macedon through weeks of celebration that would accompany a marriage. And what would he do with the wife once he got her? He couldn't just leave her behind after the ceremony, not with Olympias. And he refused to wait around until she bore a son.

Myron, an old friend of Philip's, grinned and winked at Alexander, as if they two were conspirators. "Oh, I know you don't want to wait around here to get married, Alexander. Just like your father you are, wanting to go straight to war. But I've a girl who will fit your needs, I think."

This time Alexander did allow himself a quiet sigh and drummed his finger impatiently against his thigh. "I'm sure your daughter or niece is lovely, Myron, but I--"

"She is no relation of mine," Myron cut him off. Alexander reflected briefly that he'd heard that Persians kings were never interrupted, and he thought that might be nice, every now and then. "The last of her kinfolk died a few years ago, and since I was a friend, she's been living with my family ever since. Her father was Stavros, one of Philip's best supporters." Despite himself, Alexander found himself listening. With so many contrary factions in Macedon, he hadn't wanted to pick a wife since he'd be saddled with the family too. But a girl of good lineage, with no remaining family... It was a better possibility than he'd hoped for. "She's a pretty, young thing," Myron continued. "Just turned sixteen and ready for marriage. And here's the best part, Alexander. She'd be willing to go with you to Asia." The older man rubbed his hands together gleefully, already smelling victory.

Alexander raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Really? Why would she do something like that? It's inappropriate for a woman to follow her husband to war." A courtesan or camp follower could, but a good Macedonian wife would never think it.

Myron shrugged. "I have no idea why she wants to leave, but I know she's desperate to leave any way she can. You could always ask her yourself."

Having a girl come to him so he could talk to her was practically the same as being engaged to her. But Alexander had to admit he was curious. He paced the width of the hallway a few times, turning the idea over and over in his head. "I'd like to meet her," he agreed at last.

It was after noon the next day when Myron ambushed him a second time in the hallways, this time with a young woman in tow. If the man's ability to ambush him could be transferred to warfare, they would be able to defeat the Persians within two years, Alexander thought darkly. He had been alone except for the company of two of his squires and on his way to a final meeting to make sure everything was ready for the war.

The girl with Myron was a pretty thing, though it was hard to tell for certain with the way she kept her eyes demurely lowered to the floor, but certainly no great beauty. Without hesitation, Myron announced, "Alexander, this is Cyma, my ward." The girl made a clumsy curtsy, her hands shaking as she held the folds of her long chiton. Alexander frowned, wondering how this girl could be bold enough to wish to travel to Asia with him and his army.

"Welcome, Cyma," he greeted her, trying to make his voice as kind and gentle as he could. He had spent little time around women, save for his mother, and a timid female he hadn't the slightest idea how to approach. Neither kindness nor gentleness were things he had much familiarity with, so he hoped he'd done a decent job of it. "Myron tells me Stavros, a great friend of Philip, was your father."

She nodded. "He died when I was very young. My mother was dead too, and I had no other family, so Myron took me in and raised me as his own daughter." Her voice was barely audible, and Alexander had to fight down a swell of distaste. Even if this girl would be willing to go with him to Asia, he wouldn't want her as his wife anyway. He wanted the mother of his heir to be like his own mother: an strong and capable woman who was never afraid. A child resembled both his parents, and a weak mother could make his son weak in turn. And a weak son could never become king of the Macedonians, a fierce and hardy people who made a habit of killing kings they didn't like.

He would have to be polite and humor the girl a bit longer though, for Myron's sake. But he wouldn't put up with her any longer than he must. He shifted impatiently where he stood, wishing he could pace but knowing it would be rude to Myron. "Myron also tells me that, if I did make you my wife, you would leave for Asia with me." A bit blunt perhaps, not the way Philip – consummate politician that he had been – would have put it, but Alexander was determined to be a different king than Philip had been.

"That is not entirely correct," Cyma said, her voice a tad louder than earlier and with a hint of steel beneath it. Alexander cocked his head to the side, curious. "Whether you make me your wife or not, I will not stay here once Myron has left with you for Asia."

"What do you mean?" he asked. "Surely you don't intend to become a camp follower." That was no place for a Macedonian woman of noble blood. And no girl as quiet as this one seemed would last long in that role.

For the first time, she raised her head. She didn't quite dare to look him in the eye, but he could clearly see her firm resolve. It surprised him, pleasantly so. She might act demure, but there was some life in her after all. "By whatever means necessary, I will leave Macedon," she stated. "Perhaps I will go to Asia. Perhaps I will go to Athens, or elsewhere in Greece. But I will not stay here."

"Why?" he demanded, bewildered, leaning in her direction and crossing his arms.

And fear once again entered her eyes. She glanced to and fro at the other men present within earshot and not entirely inebriated. "I shouldn't say, here," she murmured, her voice again becoming barely audible.

It was clear in that moment that the reason she wanted to leave Macedon was because she feared someone here, feared that person enough to risk her life in getting away. And whoever she feared, it would be someone who would stay here while Alexander went to Asia, and someone of power who might hear this conversation. Alexander frowned and wondered who. Antipater, perhaps, or his son Kassandros? But this girl could not be of much consequence to either man, or to any man by Alexander's thinking. A woman perhaps could and would bring this girl harm, but what woman had the power...

His mother. Olympias had power in Macedon, more than any other woman and many men. Why she might wish to bring harm to Cyma specifically, Alexander didn't know, but he did know that his mother was willing and able to kill women that she disliked, or who got in her way. Cyma may never have fallen under either category, but Alexander could guess that she might fear Olympias nonetheless.

"My mother?" he asked. She jerked a bit and stared at him for a moment, before averting her eyes. And in that moment, he had confirmed for himself that Olympias was indeed the one Cyma feared, and that she knew he had guessed. Which meant she was an intelligent woman also. Perhaps he was beginning to like her, just a little bit. "Why do you fear her so?" he asked. His mother, by reputation, was a person who could inspire fear in others. Having never been afraid of her himself, Alexander could never quite understand why.

She took a deep breath before answering. "It was during a festival when Philip was still king," she explained softly. "Many of the noble women who live nearby were gathered together. Philip had just married again, so Olympias was in a bad mood. She had the corpse of a baby. It couldn't have been dead for long. I could see its eyes," she added, her voice trembling. She took a deep breath to steady herself before continuing. "She drank the dead baby's blood, to curse Philip's new marriage, she said. She said that only you would become the next king, and she would destroy any woman who tried to stop you. My father was a distant relative of Philip's, and even though I'm a woman, I began to fear that she would try to kill me." She shook her head, the rest of her body shaking with it. "It's foolish, I know. But I can't forget about it, and every time I see Olympias, I feel like I could die. I can't stand being near here, which is why I have to escape."

Neither Alexander nor Myron said anything for a long time after her speech. Alexander hadn't heard about that little incident before, and he wondered briefly from where Olympias had gotten the dead baby. He was certain that Olympias would not hurt this girl. Cyma was no obstacle to him, least of all now that he was king of Macedon and captain-general of all the Greek forces. But there was no guarantee that Olympias would see things that way, and he wouldn't be here to keep an eye on her. In the end, the girl would be willing to leave Macedon behind, and wouldn't that work perfectly for him?

"It might be good for me to marry before leaving," he said, trying to sound casual but watching her closely. He had no skills in deception that he knew of, but he wasn't precisely trying to deceive her. "Who knows how many years it might be before I can return to Macedon? But I would hate to leave a new bride behind, and I don't even have time for a wedding ceremony, so great is my desire to be off to war as soon as possible." The longer he and his army waited, the harder to would be to start a war with Persia.

She stood a bit straighter. Though she must have been nervous, she spoke with calm assurance. "I have no need of a lavish spectacle of a marriage. Nor do I have a need to become your wife." And hearing _that_, straight to his face, was enough to convince him she wasn't a coward, however much she might fear Olympias. "But I am willing to travel with the army, in whatever bad areas they settle down for the night. I am not afraid of hardship, and I would like to see more of the world. I have heard it is very beautiful," she finished with a hint of longing.

"You are very different from any woman I have ever met," Alexander murmured quietly. He drummed his fingers against his other arm. He had not met many women, and even less close to his own age, but he was sure she was different from other women. Perhaps it was only desperation that made her that way, but she was willing to leave, and soon. Cyma might not have heard what he said, but from the triumphant look from Myron, he had heard. "We have a few more days before we must depart. I will consider your words. In the meantime, please consider yourself a guest here at Pella."

And shortly Myron and Cyma were gone. He had a major decision to make, and soon.

* * *

That evening he paid his mother a visit. The rest of the day had been a trial only a person of great patience could have endured. Alexander, who could be patient in battle but nowhere else, was ready to hit someone. Of the two squires who had been with him during his talk with Myron and Cyma, one was a terrible gossip, a fact which Alexander had only recalled afterwards. The news that he was considering taking a wife before leaving for Asia spread across Pella faster than fire. He had spent the remainder of the day fielding questions, and becoming increasingly more irritated. First, people wanted to know if he really was thinking about marriage. Though he didn't give an answer to that question, a few more men had tracked him down to remind him about their own daughters or nieces or even granddaughters, and what good wives those girls would make. He'd glared at those men until they retreated, leaving him alone with a group of his friends. His friends, least of all able to believe the news, pestered him again and again, demanding to know if he'd actually found a girl to marry, what his mother had to say about it, and since when had he been interested in girls anyway. Most of all, Kassandros had made a nuisance of himself. He'd suggested his own sisters to Alexander many times before, and it seemed he couldn't imagine Alexander marrying some other girl, on account of their own friendship. Alexander still scowled broadly at the thought of his friendship with Kassandros. He had certainly never noticed any friendship between them. 

When he received word that Olympias wanted to speak with him, it came as a relief. At least, when he was with her, he only had to deal with her and not half a dozen other people too. Whatever thoughts he might have entertained about Olympias being better than a roomful of curious people, he quickly took back. She had heard, same as everyone else, that he was considering marriage, and she had even discovered to whom. She was not happy with him, not happy loudly and at great lengths. "How could you even consider marrying that girl?" she demanded sharply. Without waiting for his answer, she continued, "She is the worst possible candidate as mother for your heir. Can't you see that?"

"She is a bit quiet, I will grant you that, Mother--" Alexander began cautiously. He did not ask how she had learned that it was Cyma he was considering. There was little that went on in Pella that Olympias did not learn of. Even if Alexander decided not to marry her, he would do what he could to save her from his mother's wrath. If she had to stay behind in Macedon, she'd need help, after this.

"She is not just 'a bit quiet'," Olympias interrupted him. She stood and began to pace the room, now and again waving her arms about theatrically. "She can barely string five words together. In all the years that I have known her – and I have known her for some time – the useless girl has barely said a word. I think she might be a bit daft. Even when I spoke ill of Myron, she just frowned and said nothing! No, you must not marry that girl, my love. What would you do if your sons took after her? There are any number of girls who would make you much better wives than she would." And she proceeded to list, at some length, girls of whom she would approve of as Alexander's wife. Every single one of them, he knew or suspected, was someone Olympias could easily manipulate. Then, as if uncertain a list of approved girls would be enough, she reiterated her litany of Cyma's failings at greater length.

Of all the girls she mentioned, never for one of them did she even mention if the girl would be willing to leave with Alexander for Asia. But then, she did not want Alexander to leave, at least not yet. He would win his glory in battle, her certainty of that was clear as the sun on a cloudless day, but he should stay in Macedon longer, marry and have at least one heir before departing. It was what Philip would have done, one of the very few things on which she agreed with her late husband on.

After her third repetition of Cyma's failings, Oympias finally wound down and Alexander quickly excused himself before she could list anew the girls she did approve of. As soon as he was clear of her rooms, he headed back to his own, intending to barricade himself if that was what was needed to get away from the discussion about his possible marriage.

Safely in his own quarters, he paced back and forth and considered Cyma. She was far from daft, that he was sure of. As for shy, she well might be, but that was hardly a fatal flaw in a potential wife. As it was, there had been a time when Alexander had himself been uncomfortable around boys his own age. Olympias's disapproval of the girl, if anything, made him consider her more seriously. Perhaps it was lingering adolescent rebellion, but he knew he couldn't marry any girl Olympias suggested to him. He loved his mother dearly, and knew she loved him, but that didn't change the fact that he knew Olympias would use him, as well as any potential wives or children of his, to get more power for herself. That was just the way she was, and that was the reason he couldn't leave a wife and child behind in Macedon when he left.

He was still considering when his door opened and then shut. Quiet footsteps approached him and Alexander smiled, stopping his pacing. He knew from the sound of the steps that it was Hephaistion. He smiled warmly at his friend as Hephaistion sat down on the bed and pulled Alexander down next to him, leaving his arm touching Alexander's. They were both silent for a few moments before Hephaistion asked softly, "Will you marry her?"

Alexander grimaced. Even Hephaistion wanted to know if he would get married. But he answered him, because Hephaistion was the one person he didn't mind asking him about it. "Perhaps," Alexander replied. He thought of his friend for a moment: quiet and competent, rigid determination and love wrapped inside gentle touches and pointed questions. "She reminds me of you. A little," he added.

Hephaistion raised an eyebrow and his lips quirked. "So now you think I'm womanly," he teased.

"No," Alexander laughed. "But my mother thinks quiet and serious are horrible failings. I've learned otherwise." He turned to face his friend and draped his arm around Hephaistion. "I don't think I could find someone better than her," he added cautiously. "She's the only one who's willing to leave with me for Asia." Both he and Hephaistion had known that one day Alexander would have to marry and sire children, though it was something Alexander didn't like to think about. Cyma seemed intelligent and somewhat courageous, but he didn't know her, and he honestly had no idea what to do with a woman in his bed. He had never had the desire to find out, content with Hephaistion as he was. The idea of taking the girl to his bed was a bit distasteful and at the same time nerve wracking. And there was no way he could go through with the marriage if Hephaistion was jealous. Above all else, he couldn't lose Hephaistion.

"You're planning to take her with you?" Hephaistion asked with a frown. "That isn't proper."

"The girl is terrified of my mother. She said she was planning on leaving Macedon no matter what it took. Marrying me was just one way she could find to leave," he added sourly. Cyma considering him nothing but a means to an end still annoyed him. "Not that I really want to bring a wife with me," he added. "But it'd be worse leaving one behind." And he looked desperately at Hephaistion again.

But his friend smiled at him gently, calmly, without concern. "In that case, I don't think you'll find anyone better either," he agreed. "So marry her before we leave, and bring her with us."

Alexander relaxed a bit. "You won't get jealous?" he asked carefully. Hephaistion was possessive of his friendship, and he was worried how envious his friend might get of his love.

"She's just a girl," Hephaistion pointed out after a moment of consideration. And there was still no worry in his face. Alexander smiled; Hephaistion was right. How could a woman, any woman, compare with a man? He would never, he knew, call a woman his friend.

Reassured that Hephaistion wasn't troubled by the prospect of him marrying, one last problem occurred to him. "But what do I do with her after the ceremony?" he asked. To only Hephaistion would he dare raise that question. Any other man would have mocked at him, for not knowing what to do with a bride.

Hephaistion laughed at him. "Idiot," he said fondly. "You do with her the same things we do together."

"I can't do all of those things with a woman," Alexander pointed out, feeling his face flush.

"No, but there are things you can do with a woman that you can't with a man. You'll figure it out," he assured Alexander with a kiss. Alexander sighed and leaned closer to Hephaistion. It seemed there was nothing left keeping him from marrying Cyma. He made up his mind, and then banished all such thoughts as Hephaistion pulled him into a more serious kiss.

* * *

Alexander married Cyma in a plain, whirlwind quick ceremony three days before the army marched for Asia. She wore a pretty, if simple, dress while he wore his best tunic and cloak, his splendor easily outshining hers. She was shorter than him and blushed hotly the first time he kissed her. There was little fanfare to the ceremony, and only one night of celebration and drinking, during which Alexander drank rather more than he should have while trying not to think of what he was supposed to do with his bride when the celebration was over. When they were alone together for the first time after Alexander sobered up the next day, she told him how kind he was to her, and that she hoped she would be a good wife to him, and a good mother to their children. Seeing her calm helped him relax and he got through their wedding bed with only a few fumblings. 

And then he clean forgot about her, as the army crossed into Asia during spring and his war loomed before him. She had a separate tent from his, though hers was always pitched next to his. He managed a few brief minutes, a few days, in which to visit her. She always seemed calm and happy, and the further away from Macedon they got, the more she spoke to him, and he grew somewhat fond of her. Still, most nights Alexander spent alone, or with Hephaistion. He wondered if Cyma knew about his relationship with Hephaistion, but he never asked her and she never said.

It was shortly after they stopped at Troy that Cyma told him she was with child. They had only spent a one night together, right after their wedding, so he was taken entirely by surprise by the announcement. He was pleased that he would have an heir so soon, and pleased with himself for siring a child that quickly. He offered up a sacrifice to the gods in thanks and in hopes that the child would be a boy, and then he held a massive celebration for the entire army. Over the months and battles that followed, Alexander made a point to visit her more often and watched her belly swell. He told her he hoped the child was a boy. She smiled back at him and told him that bearing his heir was the least she could do to repay his kindness in taking her far away from Olympias, whose letters always contained disapproval of Cyma, even now when Olympias knew the woman was with her son's child. He never mentioned those letters to Cyma, and certainly never showed them to her, especially when Olympias went on at length about how weak the child would be, just like its mother.

The army was in Gordium, after the battles of Granicus, Miletus, and Halicarnassus, when Cyma went into labor. Alexander was rudely forbidden from the tent by the midwife and paced impatiently outside, Hephaistion and other friends and soldiers also waiting nearby. The labor was long and difficult and Alexander grew more and more upset. He feared the child would be lost, and he worried that Cyma might die too. He hadn't realized until now just how fond of her he had grown. And he had never told her that he had grown to care for her. He prayed to every god that both she and the child would survive.

Many hours later, he was finally allowed inside the tent by the midwife, who looked sad. His heart in his throat, he entered, with Hephaistion behind him. He had a son, a beautiful, perfect little boy, but Cyma had died. He kissed Cyma's unmoving lips, asked her forgiveness for not loving her better, and breathed a prayer for her soul. Then he collected the newborn in his arms, already in love with the baby.

Then he walked back out of the tent, to show to everyone else his heir, and to offer a sacrifice in thanks that the child lived.

* * *

**Notes:**

So, yes, I've decided to shoot myself in the ass and write a multi-part story that might never be finished. If enough people like the idea and want to see it continued, I will do my best. I want to finish it, but I know best how lazy I can get, and how discouraged over a story I can get.

This will be based on history and, as the summary promised, some things will be altered, but not all. In this prologue, I tried to address every theory historians have given as to why Alexander didn't take a wife before leaving for Asia. And then I tried to come up with a character that would make an acceptable wife for him, given the circumstances. I hope she was believable, as well as Alexander being willing to marry her. But enough about her, she's already dead.

Many Macedonian kings, not just Philip, were murdered, frequently by their own people.

Olympias bitching in letters is pretty much a given. It's her hobby.

Home Alexander the Great Stories Chapter 1


	2. Chapter 1: Of Friendship and Courage

**King of the World**  
**Author:** Qaddafi the Ripper  
**Fandom:** Alexander the Great (original)  
**Summary:** In a different world, Alexander marries before leaving Macedonia. His son accompanies him in his journeys. What changes will this cause, and what will stay the same?  
**Notes:** A million thanks to my proof readers, coraldawn and moon71.

I've had this chapter for a while, but I completely forgot to post it here. Oops.

* * *

**Chapter 1:** Of Friendship and Courage 

For the past two days, they were saying that his father had fled like a coward. He didn't want to believe it and was sure they were lying. At the extreme old age of five, Ochus knew how the world worked and how difficult it would be for him to reclaim his rightful place in it. He and his family had been held captive by the Macedonian barbarians for about two years now, which to a five year old is forever. His mother had died not too long ago, but Ochus tried to keep strong. His sisters needed him now that their mother was gone, and his grandmother was always so pleased when he didn't act afraid. His father he remembered as only a vague figure who had held him when he was younger. His grandmother hadn't spoken of his father in years, but until her death, his mother had maintained that his father was a courageous man, the most powerful man in the world.

The news disturbed him, and he wondered what he should think about it. His mother had filled his head with tales of how, one day, he would be Great King, ruler of the entire world, and he had believed her. His grandmother had snorted and had him and his sisters start learning Greek. She had never come out and said it where he could hear, but he thought his grandmother knew that he wouldn't be Great King one day.

If his father had died in the recent battle, he didn't think he'd be too bothered by it, and he wouldn't be as sad as when Mother had died. He would like to see his father again, certainly, but the man was only a vague memory. Whether he saw his father again or not though, the man was still the only chance Ochus had for a future. That his father was a coward upset his view of the world. If his father was a coward, that meant there would be nothing for him to inherit when he was older. If his father was a coward, then perhaps he was a coward too. If his father was a coward, then he'd have to rely on the barbarian Alexander's generosity for the rest of his life.

Alexander was another vague reality in his life. He had met the Macedonian king, his grandmother said so, but he didn't remember the meeting. His grandmother said he had been very brave when he met Alexander, so there was a hope that he wasn't a coward like his father. But his grandmother only ever said good things about Alexander, and he wondered if all the things she said were true. He and his family were Alexander's enemies, and by rights they should be dead or used as a bargaining piece with his father. Yes, from listening to the high-pitched chatter of eunuchs, he knew already how the world worked, and the prospect of living his life only because Alexander was nice sat ill with him. And what if Alexander wasn't as nice as his grandmother said he was? What if he had only kept them alive because he did plan to bargain with his father for them? Now that his father had been defeated, Alexander wouldn't have need of them any longer, and could kill them or treat them like slaves.

He decided that he needed to take action. He had to look after his family. His future would be in his hands, and no one else's.

He had not been out of the harem since they had been captured. The silky walls had been his prison for two years, and it was comfortable and roomy inside so he had been willing to stay put thus far. And as the youngest and only boy, he had been spoilt wonderfully. Now that he planned on escaping, those silk walls would come in handy. He stood by one of the outer walls, listening carefully to anyone who might be nearby. It didn't sound like there was. The Macedonian guards usually only stood at the front entrance to the harem, not here in the back. None of the eunuchs were watching him at the moment, but would surely be looking for him soon. The tents were kept a distance from the rest of the army, so no one else would be nearby. Ochus risked pulling up the flap of the tent and looking around. No one was nearby, this was his chance.

He had been given Macedonian clothes some time back, something called a chiton. It was from Alexander, but his grandmother had given it to him. He didn't think much of the garment, and supposed barbarians couldn't be expected to have decent clothes, but it would come in handy now. Ochus had put that on, figuring that if anyone saw him, they would think he was Macedonian and not question him. He slipped from the tents that had been his home for two years and headed for the rest of the camp. He had a heady, exhilarating feeling as he walked, freedom, defiance, and fresh air all mixed together. He made it to the soldier's camp without any incident.

As soon as he was there, he had to scurry out of the way, for fear of being stepped on by three loudly drunk men. Huddling close to a tent for protection, Ochus looked around. Everywhere there were men laughing and carousing and drinking. It was, he realized, just two days after the battle where his father had fled. This army had won, so of course the men were celebrating. And the army had spent most of the day traveling at breakneck speed – and where they were rushing towards, Ochus didn't know – and now that they had stopped for the night, the men had gone back to partying.

He had left his tent with a clear mind and a firm heart, but now he wavered. There was something incredibly intimidating about watching these foreign barbarians laugh and slap each other on the backs. And he only just now realized that he had no idea how to find Alexander's tent. Perhaps he should head back now. He didn't want anything to do with these men, and if they found him they might hurt him. He took a step back in the direction he'd come before he remembered overhearing his guards talking earlier. It had been those guards who had called his father a coward, and laughed about how he had been the first to flee the battle two days ago. There had been more, but he couldn't understand the rest, as they had lapsed into what he recognized was Macedonian. If he left now and went back to the harem, those guards might laugh and call him a coward too. He scowled, straightened, and determined to press onwards.

The Macedonian camp was an insane maze of endless tents and fires. He had yet to see any tent that looked rich enough to belong to an important man. He slipped around a few more tents, keeping as far away from the soldiers as possible. He wondered if he'd never find Alexander's tent. And then he passed another group of tents and saw larger, richer tents before him. He grinned in triumph, though there was no guarantee that any of these belonged to Alexander.

There were fewer people around, here, though the few he saw seemed to be in a mighty hurry, and he continued to wander about without a clear aim. While he walked, he kept glancing to and fro, hoping to catch sight of someone or something that would give him an indication of where he ought to go. While looking only from side to side, he paid little attention to what was straight in front of him, which was why he ran directly into another person. Both of them crashed to the ground with Ochus on top. He muttered something in Persian that he'd heard his grandmother say, though she would be appalled to know he'd learned the term from her. He pulled himself to his feet and stared at the person he'd knocked down.

The other person was a boy was a little younger and shorter than himself – which was doubtless why Ochus had been able to knock him down onto the ground – with yellow hair and gray eyes. He guessed the other boy was the son of a soldier. He scowled and said in Greek, "Move."

The other boy was still looking at him, as if he'd never seen a person like Ochus before. "Are you Persian?" he asked, also in Greek.

"I am of the highest blood in Persia," Ochus informed him loftily, holding himself as straight and tall as he could. "Now move. I'm looking for Alexander." He was glad for the first time that he could speak Greek. He had been ashamed of the lessons at first, and at his own ability to pick up the language quickly, until Stateira told him that their father spoke Greek. He'd decided that if the Great King knew a barbarian tongue, than the son of the Great King could do no less.

The boy looked at him with wide, curious eyes, still sitting where he had landed. "I know Alexander," he said after a moment.

"Do you?" Ochus perked up. "Can you take me to him?" Perhaps he had finally run across some luck. The boy nodded, pulled himself to his feet, and made a follow-me gesture. He slid through the maze of rich tents with the ease of long practice, and Ochus decided that the boy was probably the son of an important Macedonian. That would also explain why the boy spoke Greek, and not just Macedonian. Deciding that, like a gracious lord, he should be thankful for helpful people, he introduced himself. "I am Ochus, son of Darius."

The other boy stopped to turn and look at him. "That's a weird name," he said. "And what does 'highest blood' mean? Were you born on a mountain?"

"No!" Ochus snapped back. The other boy must be stupid, to not have understood when he said he was Darius's son. "My father is Darius, the Great King of Persia, and the most powerful man alive! And I'm going to make sure Alexander doesn't forget it!" For some reason, the boy still hadn't started moving again. Perhaps now he understood how important Ochus was.

The other boy grinned at him, a happy expression that caused his entire face to light up. For some reason, seeing that smile made Ochus feel a bit foolish. He'd gone on and on about how great his father was, when his father had just lost a battle. He hadn't liked talking like that, but if he stopped saying it, he was afraid he'd become afraid and lose his nerve before finding Alexander. Then he would be just like his father, a coward. "I'm Alexios," the boy introduced himself cheerfully. "I think my father is friends with your father. He talks about Darius a lot."

And now Ochus was thoroughly confused. If his father had ever had any friends in this army, surely they had left or deserted his cause, now that the Macedonians were the victors. "Who's your father?" he asked.

"Alexander," the boy replied. Then he turned and started walking again, pulling an unresisting Ochus with him. His mind ran in circles, wondering if Alexios really was the son of the dreaded Alexander. "My father always comes to see me before I go to bed," Alexios informed him while walking. "So you can wait for him in my tent." And with that announcement, he entered a modest tent, dragging Ochus in behind him.

A middle-aged woman was inside the tent. She looked up and let out a cry when she saw the two boys enter. She rushed over and dragged the two apart, clutching Alexios to her bosom. "Where have you been? And what are you doing?" she demanded. "Don't bring a barbarian here!"

"He's not a barbarian," Alexios protested. "He's Ochus, and he's my friend." The woman let out another cry, and Alexios managed to wiggle out of her grasp. He turned to Ochus and offered another smile that was as bright as the sun at midday. "Right?" he asked.

Ochus paused and wondered. They had only just met. He had thought Alexios was stupid. He had been rude to the other boy, and already knew more Greek. He'd been offended when Alexios hadn't been intimidated to learn who his father was. And then he, in turn, had been afraid when he learned who Alexios was. It didn't seem like friendship. He was about to open up his mouth to say that no, they were not friends, when it occurred to him that Alexios was the first person to call him friend. He considered that. He remembered little of Susa, he knew he'd had eunuchs and slaves fussing over him all the time and was given any gift he might desire. But he didn't recall ever spending time with other children, except his sisters, who were girls and didn't count. And ever since his family had been captured, he hadn't seen any other children. So Alexios was the first boy he'd ever known.

But that still didn't make them friends. And he could never be friends with the son of his father's greatest enemy. So he opened his mouth to make that point clear, only to see Alexios lose his smile. The other boy looked incredibly sad, his gray eyes started to fill with tears, and something in Ochus's stomach flipped over. He liked Alexios's smile, that much he already knew. So he said, only half noticing the words coming out of his mouth, "Yes, we're friends." And Alexios brightened immediately, his grin lighting up the entire tent. Ochus knew, somewhere far back in his mind, in a place he wasn't even aware of, that he would do anything, for the rest of his life, to see that smile.

The woman made a horrified sound, and Ochus glanced at her in concern. "Is she your mother?" he asked Alexios in a low voice.

His friend shook his head. "No, she's Lanike, my nurse. My mother died when I was born."

"My mother died recently," Ochus added before he thought about it. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, his face fell. He didn't like remembering how his mother had died of illness. She had been so beautiful and happy once, that watching her gradually grow withered and miserable had terrified him more than he could understand. He never wanted to see that happen to another person he cared about, never again.

He was brought out of his unhappy memories by the feeling of two arms wrapping around him. He blinked in surprise as Alexios hugged him fiercely. "Don't be sad," the other boy whispered.

Ochus leaned into the hug. "Thank you," he murmured. Then they were pulled apart by the glaring nurse. She gripped Ochus's arm hard and opened her mouth to say something, something Ochus was sure he didn't not want to hear. But before she could say anything, two men entered the tent. As soon as Ochus laid eyes on the first man, there was no doubt in his mind that it was Alexander. He might have questioned, at another time, if the man could really be the powerful king who had defeated his father. He was short to eyes that had looked up to Darius's formidable height, and he wasn't decked in jewels. But he had the same gold hair and gray eyes that Alexios had. Alexios's cheerful greeting, "Father!" only proved that Ochus had been right.

Alexander strode further into the tent and swept Alexios up in his arms. "Wandering around again?" he demanded. "You know better than that." He tried to glare at Alexios, but he ended up smiling, the same bright expression his son had. The two embraced, and Ochus had to look away, suddenly very conscious of how long it had been since he'd last been embraced by his father. He saw the other man who had entered with Alexander. This man was taller than Alexander, darker, and very handsome. He was watching Alexander and Alexios with a quiet smile lingering on his lips. After a moment, he stepped forward to wrap both father and son in his arms, with Alexios merrily crowing, "Hephaistion!"

The scene might have gone on longer, but the woman interrupted. "Alexander!" she said in a sharp tone that no one would have ever dared use with Darius. "Your son brought a foreign boy with him." Her voice was full of disapproval.

And Alexander turned to look down at Ochus. He frowned, and Ochus was unable to repress a quiver of fear. "That's Ochus," Alexios piped up. "He's my friend, and he wants to see you."

"Ochus?" Alexander echoed. "Ah. Darius's son," he nodded, placing Ochus. "You've grown," he added. "The last time I saw you, you were Alexios's age." His grandmother had said he had met Alexander two years ago, though Ochus couldn't recall the meeting. Alexander sat down on a couch, placing Alexios on his lap. Hephaistion sat next to him, and Alexander waved the woman away. She frowned, but disappeared further into the tent. Ochus remained standing, and decided that it was a very good thing he'd agreed with Alexios about the friend business. Otherwise, he wasn't sure he could stand in front of Alexander like this. "Why did you want to see me?" Alexander asked.

He took a deep breath, firming his resolve. "I have heard," he said slowly, "that you defeated my father and his army two days ago." Alexander was staring right at him, his eyes flinty, and he quavered again. But he was determined that he would not be a coward as his father had been. "I request safety on behalf of my family. I know we are no longer useful hostages to you, but I beg you to take care of my family. If necessary, I will swear an oath of loyalty to you." He'd carefully prepared that speech the day before, with help from his Greek teacher. He thought he sounded dignified.

Alexander's gaze softened. "You are still brave, Ochus," he said softly. Then he continued, more loudly, "You and your family are under my protection, whether your father is my enemy or not. You have no need to make oaths to me for your family's sake. You will be safe with me. I do not make war on women and children."

All the tension flooded right out of him. "Thank you!" he exclaimed, momentarily forgetting his manners.

The king waved his appreciation away. "Of course." He glanced outside the tent, where night had fully fallen by now. "It's late, and you'll have been missed by now. You had better get back before your grandmother becomes upset. Hephaistion, will you see that he gets back safely?"

The other man nodded calmly. "Of course, Alexander," he replied. He reached over and fondly ruffled Alexios's hair before standing. "Shall we go?" he asked Ochus gravely. Ochus, pleased that he wasn't being treated like a child, nodded and followed the man out. Hephaistion led him carefully back through the camp, still loud and raucous with the men's celebration. Neither of the two said anything until they were almost back to the harem.

Ochus paused, seeing his home for the last two years approaching. If he didn't ask now, he might never get the chance again. "May I see Alexios again sometime?" he blurted out.

Hephaistion looked down at him, as if determining how much he really wanted to see Alexios again. Ochus kept his face firm, an easy thing to do when he remembered a smile more brilliant than the sun. Finally, steps from the tent, Hephaistion nodded. "I think that can be arranged," he murmured.

A fat, old eunuch came rushing out of the tent, sweeping Ochus firmly back inside. He found his sisters, both looking relieved, and his grandmother, who was clearing planning on giving him a long and pointed lecture about wandering off. He grinned cheerfully, not regretting his exploit in the least. He'd accomplished everything he had intended to, and more. The safety of his family was assured. He was assured of his own bravery. And he had inadvertently made a friend along the way. The day had gone much better than he had expected.

* * *

The next morning the army was up and moving again, getting ever closer to Babylon. The harem was loaded up onto carts as it always was. The Macedonian army always moved fast, and Ochus remembered his sisters being frightened of a cart that moved that quickly when they were first captured. He loved it, though. The faster the cart moved, the happier he was. The only thing that could have made him happier was if he was riding a horse. He had ridden before, back home, but it had been so long he had almost forgotten what it felt like. More than anything else in the world, he looked forward to the day when he could ride again. 

His wish came true sooner than he could have ever dared hoped it would, along with his newer, quieter wish that he hadn't dared to put into words, not even for himself. He shouldn't think so highly of his new friendship with Alexios. No matter that his father had been defeated, no matter that he was a captive, no matter that Alexander had been nothing but generous with him and his family, he and Alexios should be enemies. It didn't matter that Alexios was the first boy close to his age who had ever talked with him. It didn't matter that he was desperately lonely, and Alexios probably was too. It didn't matter, even, that when Alexios smiled at him, he felt like he was close to the holy truth of Ahura Mazda. They should be enemies.

But he couldn't help but want to see Alexios again. So, when one of the eunuchs came to interrupt his studies to say, with a deep frown, that he was wanted outside the harem, his heart leapt joyfully in his chest, and he bounded from his seat as quickly as he could. He brushed carelessly past the eunuch and to the front of the moving harem. Propriety held that none of the women could leave the harem, but he was already old enough that he should no longer be living here. There was nowhere else for him to go in the army, so he stayed. Poking his head outside the tent, he saw the tall man from last night, Hephaistion, riding on his horse alongside the cart.

The man gave him a friendly smile. "Ochus, son of Darius," he said. Ochus nodded politely back. He wondered who the man was, and why, last night, he'd acted like he was family to Alexander and Alexios. "Alexios was wondering if you were busy," he continued, with a faint smile playing around his lips.

Ochus grinned back. Surely the man knew his days were mostly free. "No, I'm not," he replied.

"Then would you like to spend the day with Alexios?" he offered.

"Yes!" Ochus exclaimed without hesitation. Hephaistion grinned and easily picked Ochus off the cart and placed him on the horse in front of him. He nudged the horse forward, leaving the harem behind. Ochus laughed with glee as the wind picked up his dark hair and whipped it around his face. He could feel the horse's muscles moving beneath him, and was glad to be on a horse again. The ride didn't last nearly long enough for his taste. But he could see Alexios, and he supposed he could put off riding to see the other boy.

As he approached another cart with Hephaistion, he saw Alexios turn and offer him the same bright smile he'd given last night. He couldn't help but grin back. "Hello, Ochus!" Alexios exclaimed happily. "Will you ride with me today?"

"Yes, I will," Ochus replied. Hephaistion drew his horse even with the cart and effortlessly hoisted Ochus up onto the side of the cart before riding off. Ochus scrambled the rest of the way over and sat down across from Alexios. Curious, he looked at the other people in the cart. The woman from the tent last night, Lanike, was there, and she was pointedly ignoring him. There were two men also. An older man with a kind and patient face, and a younger man with broad shoulders and a thick, black beard. Ochus gave Alexios a pointed look, hoping for an introduction.

He waved first at the younger man. "This is my uncle, Arridaios." The uncle turned to Ochus and smiled happily. Ochus noticed that his eyes were liquid and vague and wondered if there was something wrong with the man. "And this is Konon. He looks after Arridaios and me, and he's my tutor." And now he was sure there was something wrong with the uncle, for what grown man needed to be looked after?

"Hello," he greeted them both politely. "I am Ochus, son of Darius." He paused, and wondered if that would mean anything to these people. So he added another honor, "And Alexios's friend."

"Hello, Ochus," Arridaios said solemnly. Konon pulled him off to the other side of the cart, near where Lanike sat, leaving the two boys to themselves.

"Is there something wrong with him?" Ochus asked quietly.

Alexios shrugged. "He's always nice to me," he assured him. "We go collecting rocks sometimes. He's my friend."

The introduction of the uncle pricked Ochus's memory. "That Hephaistion guy," he said. "Is he your uncle too?" He had been wondering why the man had taken such liberties with the king and his heir, but surely he was family.

"No. He's Hephaistion," Alexios replied, as that explained everything. And he elaborated no further, merely continuing to grin, so that was all he had to say. Ochus decided that Hephaistion must be part of Alexios's family.

The Macedonian prince was a happy boy, Ochus reflected. He didn't seem to have any meanness or anger in him at all. It seemed he would call the whole world friend, if the world agreed to it. It was a trait, he knew, that wasn't helpful in a future king. "How come you speak Greek so well?" Alexios said, breaking him out of his thoughts.

Ochus allowed himself to sit up straighter. "Your father gave me and my family a tutor, since we'd be here a while." Far longer than they had thought, he added to himself, since until recently he and his sisters had assumed it was only a matter of time until their father defeated Alexander and won them back. "I learned fast," he continued. "I can understand a little Macedonian, too."

"Wow," Alexios murmured in awe. "You must be really smart. We were in Egypt for a year, and I didn't understand any Egyptian that the servants spoke."

Ochus had been in Egypt that year too, and he hadn't picked up any of the local language either. But he did know that Egyptian servants, like Persian ones, knew their place and would never dream of speaking casually with one of their masters. His own talent for language he was glad of, especially since without it he could never have spoken with Alexios. He considered for a moment, then he decided he should. "I could teach you some Persian," he offered.

"Would you?" Alexios asked eagerly, his eyes dancing with excitement. "Even Kallisthenes doesn't know any Persian, and Lanike says he's the smartest man in the world."

He didn't know who Kalithenes was, but the name sounded Greek. He already knew that the Greeks viewed the Persians the same way the Persians viewed the Greeks: as mindless barbarians who weren't capable of anything more sophisticated than war. He still thought of Greeks that way, to be honest, but he was willing to give Alexios his own private category. "Of course I will," he agreed easily.

The rest of the day passed almost before Ochus had noticed, with himself telling Alexios words for everything he saw along the ride, and Alexios occasionally telling him Macedonian words too. Around noon, Alexios, with help from Arridaios, taught him a Greek game called knucklebones, and Arridaios won most of the time. Despite that, Ochus decided he liked the game. It was pleasant, more pleasant that Ochus had thought it could be. And while he was satisfied that he knew more than Alexios did – though the two year difference between them accounted for most of that – he was also happy to confirm for himself that Alexios was no brainless barbarian. He wanted to learn about everything, a curiosity Ochus usually shared. Throughout the course of the day, there was only one point on which they did not agree: Alexios was as fascinated by soldiers and the engines of war as he was by everything else. Ochus might have found one person in this army he liked, but he didn't like Greeks. He wanted as little to do with this army as possible, believing to the depths of his heart that the Persian army was the only true way to go.

It was odd, though, the way Alexios's curiosity had no aggressive edge to it. When Ochus thought of war, he always thought that he would be the winner. It wasn't the process of war that fascinated him, but the outcome. Alexios didn't seem to care that his army always won, only asking how and why things worked. But then, his father was the man who was probably best at war in the entire world. It shouldn't come as a surprise that Alexios wanted to learn to make war like his father did. But it was surprising, that he set so little weight on victory. Oh well, he'd grow out of that.

It was after dark and just before time for supper than Ochus was taken by to the harem, again by Hephaistion. Sitting with his family and eating Macedonian food which had become more familiar to him than Persian food, he decided that Alexios wasn't really king material. A king needed to be fierce, powerful, and unquestioned, that much Ochus had learned. It was why Alexander had defeated his father. Perhaps, one day, Alexios could be as dangerous as his father was, but the person he was now wasn't the type who won countless battles.

Right now, Ochus was far more the king than Alexios was.

* * *

**Notes:**

Let me use this line now, so I can get it out of my system: Alexios has two fathers.

Lanike was Alexander's nurse.

Kallisthenes, who hated Persians and was very old school, would of course not know the Persian language.

Persians were mostly monotheistic, worshiping a god called Ahura Mazda. More details later, as religion will be playing a large role in future parts.

Ochus is an interesting character in history. He's brave when Alexander first captures him and his family, then we never hear about him again, although Sisygambis, Stateira, and Drypetis show up again. It makes me think he might have died, or been killed, when he was still a child, perhaps while at Susa. I thought he'd make an interesting friend for Alexander Junior in this alternate history. And yes, you should note that I said interesting, not other words.

The most important part here, though, is Alexios. Alexander probably would have named the kid after himself like all his cities, but then I wouldn't be able to keep the two straight. So I'm using a name that sounds a little like Alexander. His personality resembles Alexander's naturally, but I don't want him to be an exact copy either. I hope he comes across as believable, and likable, since he is the main character of this story.

Not much Alexander in this chapter, but we'll see more of him in the next one.

Also, I forgot in the last chapter that the Pit of Voles does not allow asterisks these days. I've added horizontal lines between scenes in this chapter and the previous.


End file.
